


Your Salty Skin and How It Mixes In With Mine

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Arousal, Begging, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Fight!Kink, Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Surprise Kissing, Surprise feelings, Tavern Brawl, it's specific, really more Flint's face covered in blood kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Silver finds the sight of Flint in battle more than a little appealing and picks a brawl fight just to see him in action.





	Your Salty Skin and How It Mixes In With Mine

"You know if there's one thing the captain doesn’t respect, it's a man who can't hold his liquor."

The sailor in question pauses with the cup of ale halfway to his mouth. He stares at Silver in heavy-lidded astonishment. "The fuck did you just say?"

"I was merely repeating a comment that I heard a companion of mine say that the captain had said the other day." Silver remarks casually. "Not that he was speaking of you, of course. I'm sure there are many men in the captain's acquaintance who cannot stomach their drink." He smiles pleasantly and the man scowls.

“Thinks I can’t hold my drink does he?” He downs the rest of his ale, letting it slop over the rim of the glass and down his jaw.

Silver wrinkles his nose in distaste but his face is neutral again by the time the man lowers his cup once more.

“What else does the captain say? I’m lazy, I s’pose, and don’t do my work?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Silver shrugs delicately.

The man scowls again and his gaze turns to where Flint’s standing at the bar with Billy.

“Thinks he can’t hold my drink, bah!” The man rises heavily to his feet and makes his way up to the bar, clutching his empty tankard.

Silver sits back in his chair, waiting.

It's a fine line leading the crowd to where he wants them. He can't anger too many of them or it will become truly dangerous, yet at the same time Silver's careful about the men he selects. They'll give Flint a fight but they're not truly a danger to him. 

Not to Flint.

The man in question gets another tankard of ale before he goes up to Flint.

It almost doesn’t matter what words are exchanged at that point. Silver doesn’t care about that. He cares about the first moment Flint realizes what's going on, the first blow thrown, the pure visceral appeal of the man in motion. 

He watches Flint's fist pummel into the man's stomach and moves further back into the corner he's watching from. In this moment Flint is a sight to behold. This is how Silver had realized he was drawn to the captain, and this is how he needs to see him. Partly to remind himself of all the violence that lurks just beneath Flint’s surface and partly because he simply enjoys it.

If it had been wrong to find himself aroused after the day he had watched Flint beat Singleton to death on deck under the hot sun, ah well, Silver's always known that he had deviated from society's ideas of what was proper. This is simply one more category in which he and society are at odds.

 *  *  *

Flint smashes a chair across another man’s back and Silver makes an admiring sound under his breath.

Christ, why is Flint so magnificent surrounded by violence? So beautiful in furious action? It’s like his body takes over and moves in perfect time with the world around him, but it’s not as simple as that because Silver knows full well that Flint’s always thinking three steps ahead of the next man, so what seems like random chance is carefully calculated precision work in play. It's arousing as hell and enthralling to watch.

He sighs softly and presses a hand between his legs as he watches Flint take a blow on the jaw, his hair loose, blood on his jaw, and then ducks in the next second to bring his own fist crashing up into the man’s throat.

There's a soft chuckle from the shadows and Silver turns sharply.

"One of these days, you're going to get caught." Max stands there, watching with amused eyes. "And on that day, my pretty, I suggest you make use of that tongue of yours for something more satisfying than mere words."

Silver grins. "I've satisfied men with mere words before." He tells her, turning back to watch Flint.

"Perhaps you have." Max shrugs. "But you haven't been in the bed of Captain Flint."

“And you have?” Silver inquires idly.

“I have not had that unique pleasure.” Max smiles. “I merely assume that his appetites within the bedroom are as voracious as his need for blood outside it and that any man who dares to engage him there, will be left quite bereft of words.

Silver simply chuckles.

The fight’s winding down and he knows it’s best to slip away before Flint notices his presence, or Billy for that matter.

He brushes off Max’s concern and goes back to the room he’s quartered in for the night. He wants to enjoy the pleasure of the memory of Flint’s body in motion in private. That's what he had done it for, after all.

 *  *  *

Once alone in his room above the tavern, Silver undoes his breeches and spits on his palm, wrapping his hand around his cock, leaning his head back against the wall.

_Flint with blood at the corners of his mouth, on his lips. Flint’s fists. Flint spitting blood on the floor and rising up to attack with renewed vigor._

Silver groans. Fuck, just once he wants to feel that rage in motion, to feel the pressure of it on his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Silver’s hand stills and he opens his eyes.

Flint’s standing in the doorway. He doesn’t give Silver a chance to answer. He simply closes the door and strides over to the wash stand against the wall. He pours fresh water into the basin and dips his hands into it, splashing water over his bloodied face.

Silver’s frozen on the bed, cock still throbbing between his fingers. If he moves, if he looks at Flint, he might come just from that, and wouldn’t that be something to explain to the captain?

Flint turns his head and looks at him, water dripping down his face, mingling with the blood, falling back into the basin red.

“Well?” He barks.

Silver swallows, reaching for his breeches. “I thought I’d have the room to myself.” He draw his breeches back up his hips, not quite fastening them, his cock is still half-hard and he hopes that Flint will turn around and leave so he can finish without further interruption.

“I needed somewhere to...” Flint gestures wearily to his face. “After that brawl in the tavern.” He shakes his head and there’s blood dripping down from his hair, down his face over his throat.

Silver’s mesmerized by the sight of; he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He wants to lick the blood from Flint’s jaw, taste the salt of it from his tongue.

Flint hisses faintly as he touches a cut on his cheek. “Fucking Harrison. Where did that even come from? One moment the man was just drinking, enjoying a night ashore and the next he starts spewing random fiction about how he’s not the worst drunkard aboard my ship.”

“He’s not.” Silver murmurs offhandedly, his chin resting in his palm as he watches Flint dab gingerly at his skin. “He’s just more easily manageable than one of the others.”

Flint sends him a look. “What would you know about it?”

“Nothing.” Silver says swiftly.

Flint glances at him again. “You were there tonight in the tavern, weren’t you?”

Silver starts to shake his head.

“I saw you.” Flint turns and faces him. “You were sitting with Harrison at one point.”

Silver’s torn between surprise and alarm that Flint even noticed his presence, let alone who he had been with, and wondering what that means. Did Flint notice him because he simply keeps an eye on his crew in general or does he to tend to watch Silver with the similar interest that Silver watches him?

“Yet you weren’t there for the brawl.” Flint looks at him quizzically.

“I tend to avoid pointless fights.” Silver remarks vaguely. “What’s the point in starting a fight because someone told you your captain thinks you can’t hold your drink?”

Flint eyes him. “You seem to know a fair amount for someone who avoided the whole thing.”

“I’m simply repeating what you just told me.”

Flint shakes his head slowly. There’s a thin line of blood running down the corner of his mouth and even though Silver’s gut tells him he should be on the run already, his cock won’t let him move from exactly where he is.

“I never said he mentioned me.” Flint looks at him. “What did you say to him?”

“I never meant.” Silver murmurs, hesitating here, strangely uncertain at this turn of events. “I simply…” He can’t tell Flint what he's been doing, not truly, he just can’t. “I never intended you to be truly hurt.” He finishes, and immediately knows it’s too much.

“You _orchestrated_ that fight?” Flint stares at him, his hands clenching into fists. 

Silver starts towards the door on pure gut instinct, but his breeches are still unfastened and the pause he takes to try to fasten them costs him.

Flint grips him by the arms, shoving him back upon the bed and trapping him there. “For fuck’s sake, why?”

Silver squirms in his grasp. “Look, I truly didn’t mean you any harm. I mean that.” He’s aware of his breeches halfway down his thighs, his state of arousal bared to the night and Flint’s gaze slides down his body, taking in everything.

He glances back at Silver with darkened eyes as the realization hits him. “It fucking got you hot.”

Silver squirms again, desperate to escape, but Flint’s fingers dig relentlessly into his forearms, pinning him to the bed. He's not going anywhere until Flint lets him and knowing that does absolutely nothing to help the state of his cock.

“So what?” Silver grunts.

“So what?” Flint snarls. “I could have been injured down there tonight, you little fuck. I could have gotten my brains kicked in just because you wanted to see, what? How I deal with a drunken sailor?”

“To see you fight.” Silver breathes. “That’s all I wanted. To watch you move.”

Flint stares at him.

“And you took him easily enough.” Silver points out, confidence rising. He can talk his way out of this, given enough room to maneuver. 

“And his companions?” Flint’s fingers dig a little harder and Silver inhales faintly.

The roughness sends a shock through his body, making his cock twitch. He sees Flint recognize what’s happening down there, but not acknowledge it.

“You can take any of them.” Silver says. “I’ve seen you fight.” The words come out in a calm, statement of simple fact. It’s the truth. It’s what is known. It hardly matters.

Flint’s grip lessens slightly and he draws back so he’s only half leaning over Silver’s prone body.

Silver catches his breath as Flint raises a hand and brushes his bruised knuckles over Silver’s face.

“You ever do that again and I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

“But didn’t it feel good?” Silver breathes, unable to stop himself. “Working out all that anger within you, all that fury that you don’t have an outlet for, hatred that just churns inside you until most days you fight even to breathe.”

Flint swallows. “There are other ways to get rid of that hatred.” He says and forces Silver’s mouth upward.

Silver stares at him in shock as Flint kisses him rough and messy. He can’t believe it’s happening even as it’s happening. Flint’s tongue is in his mouth, hungry and possessive and Silver still can’t believe it. Flint’s fingers bite into his jaw and his cock swells achingly against Flint’s thigh.

Flint pulls off, his mouth bloody and his expression dark. He gazes down at Silver with ruthless eyes. “If you don’t want to get fucked, I suggest you leave this room at once.” He turns away and goes over to the bureau to grab the bottle of rum standing there.

Silver sits up and finally gets his breeches all the way up, wincing as he draws them over his still thoroughly interested in everything that’s happening here cock. This is his chance to escape if he wants to escape. Flint’s giving him an out and this is the moment to take it. His mouth tastes like blood. His cock is so hard he can barely walk.

He goes over to the door and places his hand on the doorknob, glancing back.

He watches how Flint’s back tenses slightly.

And then Silver slides the bolt closed, safely locking them in.

Flint’s shoulders relax slightly and he pours himself a full mug of rum. He takes a deep drink before he turns around to face Silver once more.

Silver crosses his arms in front of his chest, trying to pretend his legs aren’t trembling faintly.

“Am I to assume your continued presence in this room gives consent for anything about to happen between us?” Flint asks, taking another sip.

“That depends.”

Flint cocks his head, looking at him. “On?”

“Well, you made that joke about killing me earlier.” Silver smiles. “Is it too much to ask for an assurance that whatever happens between us, isn’t going to leave me irreparably bruised?”

Flint’s smile makes his blood rush straight  to his cock, swelling it to an unbearable ache. “I promise I’ll leave you bruised in a manner you’ll enjoy.”

Silver swallows tightly. For just the briefest moment he wonders if he’s wading into waters too deep for him for here. He knows Flint is dangerous; but the man behind Flint’s eyes, the man that Silver catches watching him sometimes with apprehensive contemplation, Silver wants to know him too.

But first there is the thought of Flint in that tavern, fists swinging, blood on his skin, fire in his blood, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and how that undeniably makes him take a step closer to Flint. He wants both and he’s not ashamed of that.

“Do I have your word on that?”

Flint nods. “You have my word.”

“Very well.” Silver says.

“You believe me just as easily as that?” Flint takes another sip.

“You gave me your word, didn’t you?”

Flint shrugs. He takes another deep drink of rum and sets the mug down. “I’m a pirate. It would be easy to simply lie to gain my desires, now wouldn’t it?”

Silver swallows again. “So you do desire me then?”

Flint stares at him. “ _That’s_ what you got out of my words just there?”

It’s Silver’s turn to shrug. “I took your meaning. You could have lied and it’s true. But I am choosing to believe your word when you give it to me until you prove me wrong for doing so.”

Flint stares at him harder and he turns his back, reaching blindly for the rum. He tips the bottle into his mug and drinks it down.

“Come here.” His voice is a rasp.

Silver approaches him.

Flint turns around and wraps a hand around Silver’s neck, letting his hand spread over Silver’s fluttering pulse. His fingertips press into his skin and Silver moves closer.

Flint leans in, watching his eyes. “You’re afraid of me.”

“A man would be a fool not to possess the slightest bit of fear for a man as legendary as Captain Flint.” Silver murmurs.

Flint’s teeth smirk at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“I’m not afraid of _you_.” Silver says. “But I fear the legend of Captain Flint.”

Flint blinks. “They’re one and the same.”

“Are they?” Silver asks lightly. “We all wear masks, even in the dark.”

Flint’s fingers dig deeper into his flesh and Flint simply presses his mouth to Silver’s lips again.

The kiss deepens and Silver’s aware of the desire thrumming heatedly in his body, rising hotter and hotter as their bodies press together. Flint’s hands are not gentle as they maneuver Silver back over to the bed, pushing him down.

“Get your clothes off.” Flint commands, going back to fetch his rum once more, and Silver obeys, watching him prowl the room like a trapped lion as he does.

Only when Silver’s tossed the last item of clothing from him and waits there, naked as the day he was born, does Flint bring his gaze back to rest upon his flesh.

He brings the rum up to his mouth and takes a deep swallow, then wipes his mouth.

“That’s because of me.”

He gestures at Silver’s cock, swollen with desire and frankly ready for this all to be over and done with already.

Silver offers half a nod in response. He may have admitted he wants Flint; he may have shown more than he intended to tonight, but he’s not going to surrender everything that easily.

Flint takes another drink of rum. “Turn over.”

Silver hesitates, aware of how easily Flint could hurt him if he chose, and then, he hears his words as though Flint’s breath were pressed tight to his skin like a vow, _‘I promise I’ll leave you bruised in a manner you’ll enjoy.’_

He turns over on his stomach and waits there on the bed for Flint.

Flint moves in close, setting the rum aside. His hand brushes down Silver’s bare back to his backside as Flint nudges his thighs further apart.

Silver bites his lip as his cock presses painfully against the rough woolen blanket.

Two fingers brush down the cleft of his ass and he shivers.

“How long since the last time you were fucked?” Flint asks, almost conversationally.

Silver swallows, staring at the wall ahead of him. “A few months.”

“And did you goad him into it that time too?” Flint presses the pad of his fingertip over Silver’s hole, rubbing lightly over his hot rim, all puckered and waiting for his touch.

“He wanted to fuck me.” Silver retorts.

“I bet he did.” Flint mutters. He moves back to shrug off his coat, struggling angrily with the left sleeve for a moment and Silver finds himself biting back laughter at the sight.

Flint drops his coat to the floor and goes to a drawer in the bureau for what he’s looking for. He returns to the bed with a small bottle of oil in his hand.

Silver shivers again as Flint’s fingers return to his body, this time well-slicked with oil. His cock rocks against the bed and he stifles a moan.

“Beg.” Flint say, fitting his thumb neatly to Silver’s hole.

Silver huffs into the blankets. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Flint grips his hips and rolls him over and Silver blinks up at him in surprise.

Flint lifts him, shoving his body across the bed as he moves between Silver’s legs. “Do you see this?” He jabs a thumb, a thumb that was just a minute ago touching Silver very intimately, at the cut on his cheek.

“Yes.”

“And who’s responsible for that?” Flint says menacingly.

His body looms over Silver’s, causing an undeniable reaction from his cock.

Silver swallows. “I did apologize, didn’t I?”

“Actually you didn’t.” Flint sits back, gazing down at him, thoughtfully gazing at Silver’s flushed cock. He raises his eyes to Silver’s and Silver blurts out a quick “I’m sorry!” but Flint simply wraps his fist around his cock.

Silver arches back on the bed with a groan. “Please.”

Flint’s just holding him, not moving his fist, not anything, just letting the heat from his palm pass to Silver’s cock. He moves the pad of his thumb over the head of Silver’s cock ever so lightly.

“Please.” Silver gasps.

Flint removes his hand. “Get up.”

“What?” Silver stares at him in bewilderment.

Flint’s undoing his breeches, shoving them down his thighs. His cock slips free and Silver loses track of whatever he was about to say, even momentarily of the aching need between his thighs. Flint's cock is as magnificent as the rest of him.

Flint nudges him. “Come on.”

Silver doesn’t need more encouragement than that. He lowers his head to take Flint’s cock in his mouth.

He’s aware of Flint sprawling back and watching him closely as he sucks him. Flint’s gaze on him is one thing, but Flint’s cock in his mouth is another altogether. Silver slides it down his throat, letting the girth of it stretch his mouth wider. He tastes the pure essence of Flint, going deep enough so that he brushes the fiery hair at Flint’s groin and unable to resist, he coils a finger through it.

“Is this what you’ve been after the whole time you’ve been aboard my ship?”

“No.” Silver draws off enough to say indignantly. “I am here for the gold.” His lips are shiny with spit and pre-come. He has Flint’s desire lingering upon his tongue and he wants more. His own has subsided to a low ache which he ignores for the moment, his focus entirely on Flint here.

Flint gives him a level stare and Silver slides the tip of his head back into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue. Flint represses a gasp and gives him a reproving look. He knows what Silver’s trying to do here and he’s not having it.

“All right enough.” Flint grabs a handful of curls and pulls him off. “On your back and spread your legs.”

Silver obeys, watching as Flint finally removes his boots and breeches. Now he’s just in his long shirt and as he moves over to the bed again Silver can see the thick curve of his cock pressing against the material.

“Hold your knees apart.”

Silver does, gazing resolutely back at Flint as he kneels between his legs. A slick finger presses firmly inside him and he grunts.

Flint looks down at him, watching his face as he moves his finger in slow sliding circles, teasing Silver open slowly.

Silver licks his lips. “That’s enough.”

“I’ll say when it’s enough.” Flint says idly. He slides another, just as oiled finger and Silver gasps as he feels it low and tight in his belly.

His cock throbs, fully aroused once more and Flint smirks at it.

Silver’s fingers ache as he holds his knees apart for Flint. “I  thought you were going to fuck me.”

“I am.” Flint presses deeper, rubbing in tight agonizing motions that make Silver grit his teeth to keep from begging for his captain’s cock.

 _His captain._ The thought is enough to distract him from Flint’s fingers. Flint’s not his captain, is he? Silver’s not really part of the crew. Not truly. This is just a means to an end after all. To gain that gold and be free.

Flint brushes the tight cluster of nerves that makes Silver see stars and this time he can’t hold back the sound escaping him, a low whine of pure need.

Flint does it again and Silver’s hips jerk, a bead of come gathering at the tip of his cock. His chest aches with adrenaline; his balls are painful and Flint doesn’t even touch them.

“You could come from this. Just my fingers, buried in your ass, without me even touching you.”

Silver remains quiet and Flint brushes his fingertip around that spot a second time making him shudder.

Flint does it again and Silver moans louder, sweat beading his brow. “Yes, damn it.”

Once he’s admitted it, Flint simply removes his fingers and for a moment Silver has a reprieve. He lies there slightly dazed and then watches Flint as he adds more oil and this time pushes three fingers inside Silver.

Silver closes his eyes. He can feel his body drifting above the steady throbbing between his legs, letting the painful pleasurable ache slow to a distant need. The room is warm; he’s warm. The night is still out there and tomorrow still holds all the same dangers as before but this moment is quiet and he is warm.

There are fingers on his face, touching him gently.

“Hey.” Flint says softly. “Stay here. I want you with me.”

Silver’s eyelids flutter and he looks up at Flint almost curiously.

Flint grips his knees, nudging Silver’s hands away as he pulls Silver closer to him, firmly drawing him all the way down upon his cock.

“Oh fuck.” Silver groans and Flint’s grip tightens as he moves Silver’s body upon him, adjusting him until he's thoroughly filled.

Silver’s dazed, staring between their legs watching Flint’s cock thrust between his legs. _This is real_ , he thinks. _This is real and I’ll feel it tomorrow._ The ghost of Flint’s fingertips on his hips, the weight of him on his tongue. His cock. God, He will never forget the sensation of Flint’s cock moving inside him as long as he lives.

Flint’s rolling his hips, steadily moving, his fingers sliding over Silver's body almost aimlessly in their exploration. They drift up to Silver's nipples, brushing them briefly before moving on. They travel downward again to Silver's groin where the curls are as dark and plentiful there as well. Flint's finger tangle in them and Silver whimpers.

Abruptly, Flint stills, staring down at Silver with an expression he can’t begin to define. The man is still a mystery to Silver at this point and yet a mystery he’s beginning to slowly discern, piece by piece.

Flint pulls out of him and Silver gasps at the sudden emptiness.

“Get up, up on your hands and knees.”

He does, forcing his aching limbs to obey him. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to look at my face?”

Flint’s hands still on his body and then he simply thrusts back inside Silver.

Silver grunts, biting down on the anger rising inside him. He knows it doesn’t mean anything. It never meant anything that Flint had started fucking him when they were both face to face. But somehow it still hurts and it shouldn’t. He’s used to this. It shouldn’t hurt coming from Flint.

Flint, whose breath is ragged as he fucks him, Flint, whose hands are going to leave memories upon Silver’s skin longer after tomorrow. Flint, who can’t stop moving, fucking into Silver at agonizing depths making him cry out.

Flint’s hand moves to coil in his hair and Silver gasps as his head is pulled back. He pushes back; there’s nowhere to go, he feels like he’s going to be fucking split open upon Flint’s cock and now Flint’s tugging his hair ruthlessly.

Flint’s other hand slips around to twist a nipple and Silver’s body jerks with the force of his surrender. He shoots waves after thick wave over the blanket, body shaking helplessly. He clenches tightly around Flint and Flint’s fingers grip his hair even harder.

Silver’s body goes lax. Dimly he’s aware that Flint’s still moving in him, his hand still coiled in his hair, his body still aches and tomorrow, oh tomorrow he’ll be sore from head to toe. But for now he’s simply thinking, _Flint is fucking me. He’s still fucking going. What does it take to make him come?_

Flint draws nearly all the way out of Silver, merely letting Silver’s hole cling greedily to the head of his cock and then he plunges in again. Silver groans. Flint does it again and Silver’s cock twitches helplessly, over sensitized and painful.

And then Flint draws out of him again and flips him over on his back.

Silver lies there, staring up at him. Flint’s face should be ugly, dried blood crusted along his hairline, the dried cut on his cheek, the bruise rising on his jaw, his mouth twisted in a hard firm line.

 _He’s beautiful like the ocean is_ , Silver thinks wildly and Silver fucking hates the ocean. The ocean terrifies him and he knows then, that he is afraid of Flint, at his core. He’s afraid of what seeing Flint truly means, and the soft way the ocean steals into your blood and leaves you wrecked upon its shore, wanting nothing more than to return to its depths.

Flint stares down at him. “You wanted this.”

He’s demanding assurances, he’s asking for them, for himself, Silver’s not sure. He knows that he reaches for Flint’s hand.

“I wanted this.”

Flint gazes down at his hand resting in Silver’s and then he simply lifts Silver’s hips and eases into him once more.

Silver’s body moves with him, swept up in the roar of the ocean, lost in the swell of its mighty force and then the surprising softness of the waves drifting over him, as though bringing him home.

Flint eases out of him and rolls over on his back. Silver lies there, feeling Flint’s spend seep out of him.

He turns his head and Flint’s gazing at him.

Silver looks at him and then he brings his hand up to touch the cut. Flint winces faintly and his hand closes over Silver’s, not knocking it away, merely holding it there.

“Next time you don’t need a brawl to get my attention.” Flint murmurs.

“Next time.” Silver says carefully, weighing all possible meanings of Flint’s words.

Flint looks at him and then he simply rolls atop Silver. “I told you. There are better ways to get rid of that anger.” His mouth descends upon Silver, proving his words true once more. Yet as Flint kisses him, Silver can’t help thinking this is not anger, not hatred slipping softly from Flint’s lips to his, from Flint's tongue to his, no.

It feels more like the opposite.

 


End file.
